


Silver Blood

by daddykink (halogenharry)



Series: Unfinished/Fics to Revamp [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halogenharry/pseuds/daddykink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can get addicted to a certain kind of pain."</p><p>The strangest things happen the summer of Draco's coronation as a Death Eater that no one, including Draco himself, can explain. At least, no one will willingly. A sudden onset of amnesia to only relive him of one month of his life sent him down a path of destruction and self-hatred he can't explain. Firewhiskey bottles are a welcomed friend. Brick walls are like cushions to his swinging fists. Waves of broken memories and unexplained feelings travel through his mind, but when he tries to focus, excruciating pain racks his body. </p><p>And somehow this all leads back to Granger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I started this on fanfiction.net and I decided I wanted to move this over here and potentially finish it. I have to tweak it, edit, develop the story, etc., because I originally started this in 2012. But I plan on seeing this through now.

_"You can get addicted to a certain kind of pain."_

* * *

 

Draco had no thought in his mind where his memories could have gone wrong. He continually had searched for some trigger to set him on this path of self-hatred and destruction. There was month, a single month of his life Draco continually tried to remember, but could never grasp as clear hint of it and if he ever felt himself getting close, the pain that wracked his body sent him right back to square one. His parents acted like that week had been non-existent and if he were to bring it up, his parents would divert their eyes, say something incoherent, turn and briskly walk away. _It's like someone obliviated my thoughts for one month... but gave me everything back the very next day... Something important must of happened in that lost month,_ he thought.

 

Something deep his gut told him this all led back to Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor girl in Draco's year with mid-length slightly bushy, curly hair and dark brown eyes, somehow, but he couldn't see why. She had always repulsed him, being a Mudblood and all, and her choice of friends was incredibly unfortunate - the disgraceful Weasley and Potter who had the opportunity to make the right choice. Draco still remembered their first night at the castle right before the Housing Selection and Potter had chosen to embarrass him in front of their whole year. He would have helped him make the right choices, meet the right people. He and Potter could have been a dynamic duo, ruling the school by controlling the other students' fear. But instead, he had taken the opposite path and became best friends with a Mudblood and a Pureblood whose family could only afford handy-me-down robes and rags.

 

 _It was absolutely repulsive, his refusal to make a good decision for once in his life. He turned down my offer of friendship for a damn Weasley! And Granger... she wasn't worthy of anyone's time. Though, s_ _he seems to be the only I enjoy taunting anymore... She's the only person who can match my intelligence and wit. She has some sort of smart alec response for every name or remark I throw at her. Granger actually is impressive someti... No. She's a filthy mudblood; they can't be impressive. Mudbloods are mudbloods: worthless, pathetic excuses for wizards._

Mentally, Draco assured himself, _Granger_ _is meaningless and has nothing to do with my problems or my condition._

Draco readjusted himself in his chair. It was half past nine, an hour and a half before he was supposed to get on a train and return to Hogwarts for his sixth year. He had many mixed feelings on going back since he had changed so much in such little time and this year, the stakes were higher and his situation was different. The plan that had been set forth before him as his own after his installment as a Death Eater developed itself once again in his mind as he was suddenly able to feel the veins on his left forearm throb beneath his mark.

 

"Draco, are you packed? Have you eaten?" Narcissa asked as she peered around the open bedroom door. A concerned, almost frightened, look flashed across her face; there one second, gone the next. Draco wasn't sure if he had actually seen it or if he was imagining it, but when his mother cleared her throat, he pushed the thought away.

 

"Yes, Mum, I am fully packed and I have eaten the substantially large breakfast the elves made. I am ready to leave when you are." He attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

 

Narcissa walked into the room and sat in the chair parellel to her son. She placed a hand over his and asked, "What's wrong, Draco? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

 

Draco thought it over for a moment as he stared into the fire. He finally said, "Yes, there is. You can tell me about the month of July." Narcissa went pale. Her hands began to fidget, playing with the hem of her jacket and the few loose strands of string on the chair. _Well, this is quite... odd. She hasn't run away yet..._ "Mum, is everything alright? You look as though you have seen a ghost."

 

His mother was conspicuously taking deep breathes to calm herself down. "I'm fine, dear." She worked to even her breath and once she was successful, Narcissa looked Draco directly in his eye and held his hand before speaking, choosing her words carefully as she went. "Draco, I don't think you are ready to know about that month. Come on now; it is time to leave." Narcissa got up and began to walk towards the door.

 

"But Mum, I feel it is dire that I know what happened!" Draco bellowed, shooting up out of his chair.

 

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at her son, speaking in a solemn tone. "All will reveal itself in time."

 

Narcissa turned away and scurried out of the room. Draco sat there just staring at the spot she had just stood in moments earlier. Everything about that month was becoming more and more vague as he searched for answers. The mark on his left arm throbbed again and a thin line of pain erupted in his right forearm. He rolled up his sleeve to find it was the scars from where he had cut himself with glass just the week prior. It had been somewhat intentional, somewhat on accident.

 

> Draco had stolen a bottle of Firewhiskey from his father's cupboard the week after his coronation. It felt strange and not very like himself, but he drank his way through half the bottle. Upon his seventh glass, he started to have little flashbacks of something. It was one of the days he couldn't remember and he used all of his power to hold to the memory.
> 
>  
> 
> But quickly, it vanished.
> 
>  
> 
> Out of rage, he picked the bottle by it's neck and smashed it straight down into his right arm. He felt the glass shatter into a million pieces and embed themselves in his skin, opening up little portholes where his blood could pour out freely. When he saw the first bead of blood pool up, Draco felt an odd high he never wanted to let go over. The way the blood streaked his skin and pooled beneath his arm was in a twisted, sadistic beautiful. There he sat, blood pouring from the gashes he had made and Draco didn't feel the pain; he was almost euphoric and this had made up for his lack of ability to remember. He let himself bleed a little longer, but soon got up to get bandages. Afterward, he touched the bandages and stared all the places the blood was staining.
> 
>  
> 
> _That made me feel a strange type of... confidence. Confident that I won't make the mistake of almost remembering again, but more confident that I can withstand such pain. It's just such a... rush. And I love it even if it's possible this new addiction may kill me._

 

Bringing him back from his flashback, Narcissa called from downstairs, "Draco, it's time to go. Don't want to be late for the train."

 

"Coming, Mother!"

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @cameronmonaghns!


End file.
